


When Dragons Love Wolves

by StarksInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daenerys died saving the world and does not appear, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarksInTheNorth/pseuds/StarksInTheNorth
Summary: Aegon married Sansa but she loves Jon, Lord Commander of his brother's Kingsguard.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark/Aegon VI Targaryen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 122





	1. Sansa's Dragonknight

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite from 2016. 
> 
> Original Prompt: ❝ You don’t love me. Big fucking deal! ❞

“You don't love me. Big fucking deal! But you are still _my_ wife, not his!”

Sansa is sitting in her solar accompanied only by Jeyne Poole, her closest lady-in-waiting, when her husband comes storming in with cheeks flaming and fists clenched. She always knew this day would come, these accusations would rise against her. She just did not expect it today. She turns to Jeyne immediately. "Go, please."

"Sansa - " Jeyne's concern is evident in her tone and the fear in her soft brown eyes. Sansa smiles sadly. "I'll be fine."

As Jeyne scurries out the door, her sewing forgotten in her seat, Aegon continues, “You are queen of this realm, and I find out you're cavorting with my brother?”

Sansa stands up, doing her best to remain calm in the face of her husband's anger. She studies him, the angry red blush blooming across his pale skin, the violent violet of his eyes, the mussed silver curls upon his head. She takes a deep breath. “What are you talking about?”

“I just sat a case where a street minstrel was making Naerys and Dragonknight comparisons between you two.” Her beautiful husband steps close to Sansa. Aegon’s ragged breath is hot in her face as he grabs her arms and pulls her close. She wonders if he ran here straight from the throne room, or if he waited to render judgement from atop the Iron Throne before coming to accuse her.

When they first met, his troops amassing at the Bloody Gate to claim the Vale for their King, Sansa had unveiled her identity early. It seemed practical, in the moment, to turn down her betrothal to Harry Hardyng and offer herself and her ties to three kingdoms to Aegon Targaryen. He was a prince of songs then, with dreamy Targaryen eyes and a cocky smile, a knight-trained warrior with all the education and bearing of a future king. The Sansa-that-was of her childhood would have loved him even more than she had loved Joffrey, her once golden prince. The Sansa that she had become only saw her marriage as a strategy for self-preservation. Aegon had been all too happy to accept her as his bride, although he accepted her more in hopes of gaining her love than gaining the Vale, Riverlands, and North through her.

The years after their marriage passed quickly, through the unification of the Seven Kingdoms and the Battle for the Dawn that stole away his aunt and her dragons into the curtain of light at the end of the world. If Daenerys had lived, so much would be different. Aegon could have set Sansa aside and she could have the love she desired instead of him.

Aegon was the prince of songs she so often dreamed of when she was younger, but her heart beats fast for Jon, Lord Commander of his brother’s Kingsguard now that the wars are over. Jon, who rescued her party on dragonback when they were accosted by Cersei's men. Jon, who swore himself to his brother only when he realized he could protect her best there. Jon, who she thought was her remaining brother but even when he wasn't, he was the only one who understands what is like to live in the shadow of Ned Stark.

She opens her eyes and, voice soft and trembling, says his name. "Aegon - "

“Is my son mine?” She hears his hurt, his anger. 

“Yes.” She sighs, eyes glancing down because this is the truth at least. The Dragonknight comparison is too true. Jon won’t dishonor her, or her children, or himself. She wouldn’t want him too, either. He wouldn’t be her honorable knight then. “They all are.” 

He releases her arms and steps away from her. Tentative relief fills Aegon’s face, but she can tell he is still unsure. But Egg and Daenys and Nymeria all have his bright violet eyes. Egg inherited more than his name from his father, with dark black hair so much like his cousin Arianne Martell's that some joke that Arianne is his true mother. But she can see where Aegon would have feared different, because the curl of that hair is more Stark than Tully or Targaryen. But Sansa is sure the Stark in Jon would rule out the godly Targaryen guise if they were his own children and not his nephew and nieces.

Aegon reaches out, takes her cheeks between his hands and presses a soft kiss upon her brow. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Sansa. You know I trust you. I just, the terror in me when the man's song was sung - " He pulls away, eyes hopefully holding her own blue gaze as if he is drowning and only her words could save him.

“I don’t love you, my lord. I never have and never will. But we both know you don’t love me, either. The words of my mother’s house are Family, Duty, Honor. I followed that, I did my duty by you. Hearts have no place in King’s Landing, but they’re still here and you cannot change that. But I will keep my honor, lord husband, as I have so little left.”


	2. Aegon the Unloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ❝ That was called love…❞

After he escapes Sansa’s solar, pouting like a spoiled child, Aegon goes to the only place he finds comfort in the grandiose cage that is his palace.

In the royal nursery, his son naps quietly besides his twin daughters. Their violet eyes are shut, their dreams a shelter from the cruel, cruel world. These children are peaceful, and beautiful, and _his_.

He feels foolish for ever questioning their paternity. The girls both have his hair, his eyes, his features. While little Egg may lack his father’s silver-white hair, it is instead replaced by the gentle black curls of a Martell.

He nears their crib like a Septon approaching the altar of the Seven, eyes wide with reverence. How could he ever have created something so pure? He watches them over the edge of their crib, their breaths deep and slow. Aegon reaches out to stroke Daenys and Nymeria's foreheads, pushing back the loose silver-white hair that hangs there.

Daenys smacks her lips and turns over when he touches her, but Nymeria's eyes blink open with careful motions. She gazes up at him unnervingly. "Papa?"

"My sweet little dragon."

Nymeria drops her stuffed wolf to the side and reaches up her arms. "Papa, up."

"Up?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Up, _please_ , Papa." She corrects herself primly. Aegon rewards her courtesies by lifting her up and walking across the nursery. Nymeria cuddles against his shoulder like she has a thousand times before. Aegon begins the words to an old story, drawing circles on her back as he reminds her of the queen who shares her name.

He remembers when she was born, with a fever hot as the sun. Nyermia had cried through her first night and day and screamed through the second. Even adding a dragon egg to her crib did not seem to help; by the time the third day ended the little princess didn't even have the energy to whimper

The maesters had told them that their child was close to death and would not survive the night. Sansa had been inconsolable, dragging Jon and her ladies out to pray in the godswood through the night. Aegon had held his daughter, much like he is now, and told her everything he had dreamed for her: that she would be a strong warrior, like her aunts Arya and Daenerys, that she would be a dragonrider and a sailor, the realm's delight along with her sister. That Princess Nymeria would bow before no man but her father, and even he would not tell her who she was to love or marry or what she was to become.

The fever broke as the sun's first rays had streamed across the Blackwater. Some claimed it was the Septon's prayers that ended her torment, while others whispered it was Sansa's that saved her little girl. But Aegon liked to think it was he who saved their child from death by reminding her what she had to live for.

Nymeria murmurs against his chest, finally asleep. He lays her back down besides her siblings. Seeing them has reminded him what this world is for, what he works through his lovelesss marriage for. But it has still not soothed his heart in full.

All of the Aegons have titles of some kind: the Conquerer, the Usurper, the Unlucky, the Unworthy, the Unlikely. Perhaps he will be known as Aegon the Unloved, for who could ever love him if even his wife will not?

His sore heart pounds in his chest as he enters the dining hall for their evening meal. Sansa sits, radiant as ever, in the chair besides his own at the head of the table. Aegon ignores the stares of his courtiers at his entry for he is never, ever late. He stares only at his wife and the man standing behind her, her eternal protective shadow: his brother.

Their marriage had been his idea, from the moment that Sansa unveiled her identity. Alayne Stone had been comely and kind, but a king could never marry a bastard no matter how much he was attracted to her. But the daughter of House Stark . . . Sansa suggested it within days of meeting him at the Blood Gate. Aegon thought Sansa was reciprocal to it, that his affection was met in kind.

Now he saw she just found the best way to protect her people and did her duty before her King.

If it was anyone else, he doubts it would hurt this much to look upon either of them. But she loves his brother, his blood. What difference is there between Aegon and Jon that makes her love Jon so fiercely?

But Aegon knows. He knows the way she laughs whenever Jon whispers a joke in her ears, their walks through the garden each day, Jon's support of her suggestions at council meetings- Aegon feels like a fool for not noticing it sooner. Yet he takes Sansa at her word - she has not taken Jon into her bed. That place alone is for him, her miserable husband.

They are all doomed to feel the pain this marriage has caused, to have some hurt to their love in any form. Aegon takes his seat besides her, and gives a curt nod, “My Lady. Brother.”

“My King.” Sansa said, quiet and unsure. He takes her hand and squeezes it, a gesture meant to be reassuring.

Their eyes met, briefly, before he turns to his meal. "Eat, my friends! I am sorry to have kept you waiting but I decided to visit my children." Aegon lifts his goblet of purple wine. "To the future of the realm!"

The courtiers, his wife, his brother, they all repeat his declaration. "The future of the realm!"

Sansa watches him over the rim of her goblet, and in her eyes he sees understanding. Their marriage is only for their children, for the future they have built and the legacy they must still create.

None of the last Targaryens may love freely, but they will love anyway. Aegon was a fool to love Sansa, as she was a fool to continue loving Jon. But love is strange in many ways, and while it hurt like Seven Hells more often then not, sometimes love is all they have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, then come hangout on [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) to talk about Jonsa, Jonerys, Daensa, OT3, ASOIAF, and GOT. I also take prompts in my [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask/).


	3. Face the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ❝Go ahead and cry me a river.❞

He isn't supposed to be in the nursery, not at this hour. Sansa stares in shock at her husband rocking Nymeria in his arms, singing to their little girl, his voice sad and melancholic despite the happy song. Normally Sansa will see them in the afternoon and Aegon will visit in the morning. They eat dinner as a family when there are not state dinners or grand feasts, and most nights the two will sit on opposite sides of the room and read their children a bedtime story or two. But that was hours ago, and so she had sought to find comfort in her children's soft sighs.

But he is never here, now. Sansa turns to back away and return later to see her children, but Aegon hears her slippers soft patter on the floor.

“Sansa.” He rasps, staring at her intently with those too-purple eyes. “Come say good night to Nym.”

She approaches, ready to take the little girl from his arms. His voice betrays the truth- Aegon is deep in his cups. She does not want to risk her daughter’s safety but he refuses to hand her the babe. He pulls her closer to her chest, staring down like Nymeria is his own little star.

“My lord, may I hold her?” She tries with diplomatic tact, arms outreached towards him. Her heart thunders in her chest, the blood racing through her mind and body. “Please, my lord?”

“Won’t you call me Aegon, love?” His voice is a bare whisper, wind against a summer grass. Sansa tries to put a hand on Nymeria’s blanket, the one she embroidered with wolves and suns for her grandmothers' houses, but it doesn't work as the toddler turns in closer to her father. “You are to me, you know. My love. Even if you won’t return that.”

Sansa’s face falls and she holds back a sardonic laugh. He loves her? He’s never said such a thing, not once since their wedding feast. She has done her duty when her king asked for her hand, wedded him and bedded him, borne his children, but never has she given her heart. That belongs to Jon, as it had for so long. Jon, who joined the kingsguard soon after her betrothal, to go to King’s Landing and be closer to her. To protect the only family he thought alive from a king, when he could not protect the rest. 

When Arya was discovered alive, and Bran and Rickon too, and Jon was announced as Aegon's half-brother and her own cousin, their king offered to honorably relieve him from his vows. He could return North, to advise in Bran's regency, or head East as an emissary to their aunt, the Queen of Dragon's Bay. But Jon had stayed and she continued to love him from afar. Continues, because she doubts she can ever give up that part of her heart. 

Aegon gazes at her so earnestly, pleading for her return of fond affection, but all she can give him was a high-pitched, bitter laugh.

“You call me your love? If you loved me, you would have asked for my hand, my heart, and how I felt about you.” Sansa shook her head as his face fell. “You never stopped to consider who I was, or ensure that the arrangement would make me happy.”

“I-” He tries, but no more words came. Nym begins to cry, and he looked entirely perplexed as to how to handle the child or his wife.

“How can you call me your love? You love me idea of me, Aegon, but you don’t love me.” Sansa purses her lips as he finally gives her daughter back to her. She pats Nym’s back, drawing shapes and tracing words. She whispers soft cooing sounds to calm her down as Aegon speaks. 

“Sansa, I thought it was gifted from the gods, when I saw you in the Vale. When you returned to Winterfell, I imagined it was for home and not for dislike of me. I never thought-”

“And that’s the problem, my lord. But now here we are, three children between us, who need our love more than either of us need to be loved in return.” She props Nym, calmer now, against her hip. Their children are beautiful, sweet creatures, the happiest part of King’s Landing. Her husband stares her down, before finally slinking out of the room upon realizing she would offer no sympathy.

While she loves Jon, she loves her children more. Her heart will yearn to be fully his, but she is not Cersei. She will not jeopardize her children’s future or risk the chance of a bastard in her belly. This is Sansa’s life, real and true, not some song for the ages. She will give herself to the babes and hope they receive brighter futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, then come hangout on [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) to talk about Jonsa, Jonerys, Daensa, OT3, ASOIAF, and GOT. I also take prompts in my [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask/).

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, then come hangout on [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) to talk about Jonsa, Jonerys, Daensa, OT3, ASOIAF, and GOT. I also take prompts in my [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask/).


End file.
